


Grounding a Hero

by Daerwyn



Series: Grounding a Hero [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, F/M, Fame Isn't All It's Cracked Up to Be, marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter hated the fame. He hated the fangirls and the autographs. And he was starting to really hate Ginny. But what he had seen in the war, and after it, made him leave for the summer, to clear his head, to take a deep breath and live again - something he hadn't done since he was 11.</p><p>So this year at Hogwarts was supposed to be normal. But there was a Marriage Law, and kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounding a Hero

Harry Potter couldn't travel anywhere without running into eight reporters, an entourage of fangirls, and three hundred people asking for his autograph. So when he was trying to take Ginny out on a date, they usually went to a Muggle neighborhood, or ate in. Ginny was uncomfortable in the Muggle world, and Harry was uncomfortable living in his deceased Godfather's house. They tried to go to the quietest restaurant in the Muggle World that hadn't seen a customer in fifty years, and still were found.

It frustrated Harry to no end, and infuriated Ginny.

So, Harry decided he needed to step out of the lime light. He still owned Grimmauld Place, of course. It belonged to Sirius. He wasn't going to get rid of it. However, he purchased a small flat in the first town he pointed to on a map. It only took a day to move in and get enough furniture to sustain life.

Ginny hated it.

She hated having to convince her mother to let her apparate to a Muggle village her mother didn't even recognize. Hated having to change her outfits in order to go on a date with Harry. She hated everything about it. She hated the Muggle World.

Harry loved it. He wasn't Harry Potter anymore. He was... Harry. He was just another Harry that existed. A kid whose elderly neighbors would bring dishes over every evening because they learned he was an orphan. A kid who would return the favor by doing whatever the couple asked, including spending three hours listening to stories of their grandchildren on a Sunday afternoon.

Ginny would avoid them. From what Harry understood, she had never truly been involved with her grandparents, as they had died early in her life, just after the first war. She didn't... get why old people were important.

Harry liked their stories. Harry liked their distraction. Harry liked them. He liked old people.

"You alright, dear?" Lynda asked for the second time that evening, her shaking finger pausing at the image of her deceased son, who had fought in some war. Harry didn't remember if it was the son that died in Korea or Kuwait. He didn't remember much of geography - a grueling class that his cousin was in.

"I'll be leaving for school in the morning," Harry said suddenly. All summer he hadn't mentioned it. "It's a boarding school in Scotland." Lynda didn't seem too surprised. "I won't be back to stay until Christmas. Do you need me to pick you up anything for the week? I'm sure I'll be able to stop by next weekend and make sure everything's still in order."

Lynda tapped him on the hand, tutting. "You worry too much about us, dear. It's very sweet of you." Her husband, Nigel, looked up from the paper he was reading, the same look as always when Lynda roped Harry into their flat. Faint disinterest. "We've managed twenty years before you moved in, you know. We'll manage another twenty."

"Another twenty?" Nigel muttered. "Hell has frozen over, that's why it's another twenty."

Lynda shot her husband a look, but closed the photo album. "Since you have such a big day tomorrow, I think I'll let you go back to your place, dear. Make sure you get all of your rest. Are you fully packed? Do you need anything for tomorrow? I can make you sandwiches. It's sure to be a long train ride-"

"No, thank you," Harry insisted. He pushed himself off of the sofa, the faded fabric smell sticking to his clothing. It reminded him of Mrs. Figg's home, but... nicer. Not as many cats. In fact, they didn't have any pets at all. "I'll be by in the morning, before I leave, Mrs. Graceling. Are you sure there isn't anything you need?"

"Quite sure." Lynda watched as Harry said his words of parting, and Harry felt like she was criticizing him for not telling her sooner. It wasn't like he could tell her he was a wizard.

They would have to be his guardians for that, and they weren't.

That night as Harry laid awake in his bed, his trunk half packed and his homework still not done, an owl from Ginny unanswered on if they were meeting at the platform (something he had already told her that he wouldn't be able to do because of the requirement for his year to meet at Hogsmeade), he wondered if the reason why he liked old people - particularly the couple across the hall - was because they cared for him in a way the Dursleys never could. Like he was family, and like he belonged.

At least, Harry felt like he did.

He didn't need to catch the train that morning. He wanted to, for old time's sake, but the letter specifically said to apparate to the square in Hogsmeade by noon. So he took a train to London after he checked in on the Gracelings, and took a taxi to Grimmauld Place.

Kreature was waiting for him, not too fond of his new Master, but it was a position Harry couldn't change. Kreature knew too many secrets of the Order, and knew too many people still supporting the Death Eaters. And, Harry suspected, Kreature quite liked being in peace for once. He quite liked it that Harry wasn't around all the time and didn't bark orders or abuse him. Harry treated him much like another elf that had been bound to him - well, almost bound. Emotionally bound, if Harry had to call it anything.

"There is a guest for Master Potter," Kreature growled, bowing to Harry in a way that made Harry think painfully of Dobby. All flappy and much too dramatic.

"Thank you, Kreature." It wasn't Ginny, then. Kreature had begun to call Ginny the "Fiery One" because Ginny had often, during an argument, lit something on fire. Kreature wasn't fond of putting the fires out. He complained of how they ruined his Mistress's original varnish. And then Harry had to deal with an angry Ginny and an emotional house-elf.

It was Ron, nursing a purple hand that was slowly decreasing in size. Upon seeing it, Harry couldn't help the grimace of sympathy he gave and the quirk of an eyebrow in curiosity. "What happened to your hand?" Harry blurted. Stepping further into the room, Harry saw what looked like teeth marks along the most swollen bits of Ron's hand.

"Nasty gnome," Ron muttered, his ears turning red. "Mum didn't tell me there was a gnome in the cabinet so I reached in-"

"How did a gnome get into the Burrow?" Harry questioned, dropping his trunk at his feet and looking along the mantlepiece of the fireplace for the Floo Powder. Kreature always moved it so that it was never in the same location. The clock ticking on the center told Harry it was only fifteen minutes until they were to meet up. He liked to push the time constraints, just for old time's sake. At least they weren't flying a car to the castle this year.

"Mum apparently left a note, but why would I read a note before lunch?" Ron griped. "I need food for that, mate. Don't get enough sleep at night to read my owls at breakfast, you know?" Harry knew. The nightmares didn't stop once they started. And they were just as constant as it was waking up.

"I can't find the Floo Powder," Harry said at last, giving up the search, "we'll have to apparate."

"Fine with me," Ron shrugged. He seized his own trunk from atop a dusty old couch that needed to be patched. Suddenly, he grinned at Harry. "Who do you reckon's coming back this year?"

"Got your sights set on someone, then?" Harry asked. Ron usually did since the war ended, and his relationship with Hermione dwindled.

"Maybe Lavender. I haven't heard from her in a while. She ignores my owls." Ron glanced at Harry, worried, as if he might have forgotten something important. After the banging around that happened to him in the war, everything was a blur. And most conversations were repeated if he didn't focus enough. Harry knew the question was going to be asked just by the look on Ron's face. "What happened to her again?"

"Greyback attacked her," Harry said quietly. They had stumbled across her, Hermione had sent the Death Eater/Werewolf away, but it had been too late. Harry hadn't seen her since the war, but he had heard rumors from Kingsley of what had happened afterwards. Of how she had been treated. And it made Harry sick that there were still people even after everything had turned out for the better that acted like that. "Reckon she's taking time off in the Muggle world. Her family's there." Harry didn't know who would be coming back. He just knew of the Slytherins that would, as he had been there for each of their post-camp trials. He had been forced to testify, saying who he believed and who he didn't. The people coming back this year were people Harry honestly didn't know about... people he believed, but didn't know if their change would be permanent.

Not many people changed for the better.

"Well, there's always the chance that Romilda's going to be there." Harry prepared to apparate. "I'd like to see if she really is as great of a kisser as all of the rumors said. You know, I don't understand why you got that love potion taken off of me in sixth year."

"So you can use your hand to woo the ladies now," Harry pointed out, gesturing to the injured hand. "Imagine how many girls are going to fawn over how you got hurt?"

"I have a counter-argument, but wait until we get there for it, mate," Ron said, glancing at the clock. "We're going to be late."

They apparated. Harry wasn't too bothered not saying goodbye to Kreature. Kreature didn't care either way. Still, he wondered if even the most off-handed comments of thought would make Kreature warm up to him.

Hogsmeade had a small gathering of people. When they landed, laughing because they had landed nearly on top of each other, their trunks tangling, Harry spotted Lavender Brown first, watching them with a close eye. Harry noticed that her scars weren't as bad as Kingsley had said. In fact, she still looked beautiful - not that Harry would ever say that outloud, or Ginny would flay him alive. Beside her were the Patil twins, and then Hermione. It was a relief to see Hermione. Harry hadn't seen her in nearly a month, because she had been so busy with her elf reforms and her education standards she was pushing for Hogwarts.

"Mrs. Weasley did give you the note with your breakfast, Ron. It's not my fault you didn't know a garden gnome had snuck into the kitchen and was hiding out in the cabinet-"

"He was eating all the food! What did you want me to do? Let him eat my sandwich? No, I got rid of the bugger and he bit me! He was in my house! I wasn't in his... his whatever gnomes live in!" Ron laughed, though, obviously not angry about the miscommunication. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought Ron to have one too many drinks. But Ron was always bubbly now. He was always happy. He was always laughing. Harry didn't know how he did it.

Everyone else seemed to be there already, except for the two Slytherins Harry was most apprehensive about - Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. They were best friends in school. They were buddies at camp. They were ... well, Death Eaters. Harry had no doubt in his mind about it.

Hannah Abbott, Pansy Parkinson, Milicent Bulstrode, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan... Neville Longbottom. Merlin, they all looked so different. So... changed. The war had really changed them.

"There's Hermione," Ron commented, and he dragged his trunk along, causing Harry to wince as the trunk scraped against a stone, before he lumbered after his friend.

"Had a good summer?" Harry asked the girl, who was glancing at her watch worriedly.

"Excellent," Hermione nodded. "I've managed to get the Department of Magical Creatures to consider reading my proposal, which is a start. However, it'll take months for them to actually put it on their to-read pile. They simply have so many proposals from all over, that it's preposterous to think it will be read sooner. And Hogwarts is implementing my observations for their first year students next term. I'm not sure if it'll work out all too well, but there has to be some standard, or else as teachers come in and out their education will be all botched up."

"Sounds... exciting," Ron observed. He glanced around at the students. "Oi, there's-"

The crack made everyone quiet. It was Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Harry didn't need to look up to know that much. Parvati and Padma were whispering it to themselves, also, as though surprised by their appearance. Harry didn't think they would show up either, but he also knew it violated their parole.

"Reckon it's going to be different this year, yeah?" Ron muttered as they passed.

"I think so," Hermione agreed quietly.

Of course it was going to be different. Half of their friends were dead. There was no more murdering psychopath after them. Harry couldn't imagine what a normal year would be like. Then again, every year was supposed to be a normal one. Would this one be just as messed up as the rest?


End file.
